


All I Want for Christmas is to Get the Hell Out of Dodge

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, M/M, POV Second Person, Sollux with a Lisp, karkat's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2331641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you told him you didn't want to fly, you said that with the assumption that driving would be easier.</p>
<p>Of course, you were fucking wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want for Christmas is to Get the Hell Out of Dodge

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first genuine attempt at writing a piece of fanfiction, so I sincerely apologize for any mistakes.   
> Non-Beta'd.

Initially, you told him you didn't want to fly.  Shit gets lost or broken, the planes get delayed or snowed in, or the ever imminent racial profiling and secondary exam as invasive as a goddamn worm spelunking in your ass.  Of course, those excuses fell short on the irredeemable piss nugget that is your boyfriend.  Only when you had no more legs to stand on did you fess up to being afraid of flying.  Sollux ended up agreeing after he had a few chuckles despite sympathizing.  He even offered to take the first shift of the drive, which put a lid on the frothing verbal rage snake that was your retaliation to the fact that, yeah, aviatophobia is pretty damn reasonable compared to other things.  

 

You still refused to heal him in co-op that night.

 

He still managed to kill you despite the fact.

 

When the morning did come for you both to lumber out of bed at 3 a.m. in the cold, admittedly you were rather resistant.  The majority of it was a blur of bone chilling floorboards, missing cords, and a half-assed jab over the last package of mini donuts.   By the time you’re decently conscious of time, space, and other concrete ideologies; you find yourself in the front seat of your boyfriend’s Ford Escort.  How you made it down the three flights of stairs from your appointment then across the iced parking lot is too much for your head at the moment.  Instead, you opt for peeling your face off the car door, smacking chapped lips as you try to dislodge the foul cotton mouth taste.  

 

“Good morning, Thleeping Beauty.”  

 

You wipe a hand over your face with a groan, pausing to rub the sleep from your eyes.

 

“How long have we been driving?”  God, it sounds like you got face fucked by jackhammer. Your head rolls back against the seat, thudding against the headrest.  

 

Sollux reaches his hand from its laze on the gear shift to swipe a thumb across the dusty clock.  The red numbers mockingly read 4:57.

 

“We left about 3:30.  Tho an hour and a half.”  He shrugs, letting his hand fall again as he steals a look at you.  

 

Your head rolls to eye him.  The lights on the dashboard splatter him in bits of red and yellow with the rest shrouded in shadow from the night outside.  Somewhat, you can make out his expression, and sure enough; your boyfriend seems to be taking the drive in stride with his bored eyes and slouched posture.  He must have seen you staring out of his periph because the guy looks over again, and you can just barely make out the small smile on his lips.

 

“Eyes on the road. I don’t think my dad wants me home in a box for Christmas.”

Sollux gives a soft laugh, eyes veering back to the road.  However, he reaches over and tugs the blanket, you only were vaguely aware of being wrapped in, closer from where it had begun to slip from your shoulder.  You smile a slight, making sure to catch his hand when he pulls back the limb.  The two of you sit in near silence like that, with only shitty early morning radio playing.  

 

When he pulls the car to a rest stop half an hour later, it feels all too soon.  Especially when you step out and come face to face with the inexorable cock flayer that is Mother Nature herself.  

 

“Jesus fuck, could it get any colder?” You huff, stuffing the blanket back in the car.

 

“Maybe if you keep complaining, you’ll blow enough hot air to warm up.”  Sollux snarks, rounding about as he did so to pop the cap on the gas tank.

 

You shoot him a glare and move to retort, but instead are cut off by gust of wind and end up loudly chattering your teeth.  Rather than climbing back into the car, you make a beeline for the gas station, flipping the bird to your boyfriend over the shoulder as you do so.  You don’t even have to look back to know he’s doing the same.

 

Later, after you trudge out of the nauseating-but-typical excuse for a back road restroom, you pass by the broad windows are the front of building.  It’s still rather dark, the snow slowly but surely piling up on everything in God’s creation. You stuff both of you hands into your hoodie pocket with a scowl.  The sooner the both of you got to your Dad’s the better.  Turning your attention to section of freezers in the back with a shiver because like hell are you going to get coffee and inevitably spill it on yourself because snow means shitty roads and even shittier drivers.  

 

Wrenching open one of the doors, your free hand snatches up a bottle of YooHoo because even if you don’t always get along with Equius, he was right about one thing; this shit is as addictive as Gamzee’s weird as fuck pies if Meulin’s reaction was anything to go by.  

 

It’s not drugs, you tell yourself. (Read: insist on believing even though that thought is as real as Strider is cool.)

 

(That you do know is complete and utter bullshit.)

 

You, being such a deaf lard that you could probably withstand Kankri’s whistle at point blank range and only strangle yourself with the string due to how squirrel-faced the glorious shit graduate looks, did not realize Sollux approach during your usual denial fest. The glass door thuds shut, and as you turn you get a face full of cold cotten.  Giving a completely and totally reasonable squeak, you stumble backwards.  

 

Quickly, you scowl upwards at him to which he promptly gives a rather weak grin.  “What the blistering hell, Sollux? You could give a guy a bit of warning.” You heave a sigh, stuffing your free hand into your pocket and your scowl softening somewhat.  “What did you do?”

 

He snorts with a rolls of his eyes, grin gaining a bitter edge.  “Who thaid I did anything?”  Sollux peers away.  “It’th thith goddamn snow.  Fucking up everything and everyone like Thpiderman to the Avengerth, just flying around and breaking anything in arm’th reach with white thit while thinking it’th actually making a differenthe when really it just maketh the biggetht damn methth thith thide of the country.”

 

Seeing as Sollux is (thankfully) not in one of his self-hating states, you go back to pulling the crabbiest face you can conjure with your lack of sleep.  “Just spit it out, already. What, is the road closed? Iced? Because-- “ You pull out your free hand to jab a thumb over your shoulder, “Seriously, we can just back track. It’ll take more time bu--”

 

Sollux gives a bark of laughter, still not looking at you. “You thay that like the road’th the problem.”

 

Oh.

Oh HELL no.

 

You sputter for a moment like his piece of shit car before, unlike his car, you come to life with rage like a soccer mom trying to defend her obviously brain-dead kid.

 

“Are you SHITTING me?!” You throw both of your hands into the air, nearling clubbing your boyfriend in the chin with the near forgotten bottle of chocolate milk. “We still have hours to go in Jack Frost’s crusty glory hole, and your sorry excuse for a tin can is shitting bricks!”

 

Sollux finally turns his sights back to you with a pinched mouth and furrowed brow. “At leatht we’re driving, KK.  If I remember right, _you_  were the one who didn’t want to fly even though it would have been a hell of a lot quicker and eathier.” He snaps.

 

You move to retort, but instead pause.

 

God, you are such a douche.

 

Your boyfriend is right.

 

Not only is he right, but he did also get your sorry ass into the car, drove said car through snow for two hours in the dark on a highway and backroads that have not seen even a garden shovel in a years, and to top it all off...you are currently yelling at him about something that if anyone is blame it’s you.

 

And taking a good look at him now, you can see his nose is red enough to rival Rudolph with smudges of grease on his jacket.  

 

You are the jackass.  It is you.

 

You frown, averting your gaze back to the freezer. “Okay, well, what’s it going to take to fix?”

 

Sollux makes some sort of irritated noise before speaking up, “I don’t know.  I’m not a mechanic, KK.  I wath going to go thee after I made thure thomeone didn’t mithskae you for a lost kid, that ith until you dethided to throw a bitch fit like one.”

 

If you had looked at him any quicker, you’re pretty sure you should have snapped your neck. “I am _perfectly_ normal height, thank you very much, dipshit. And sorry for trying to see if I could help fix the problem I obviously put a hand in!”

 

He swipes a hand over his face with a groan, nearly setting his glasses off kilter.  “Look, there’th a place to eat attached to here. Go eat, and I’ll thee if we can get out of here without thelling a kidney.” The guy turns heel, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “But if we have to, it’th gonna be your’th.”

 

You give an indignant huff but don’t bother hollering after him.  

 

Instead, you reach into a different freezer and take out two Mountain Dews, swearing to yourself that you will at least _try_  not to weaponize theses as well, even accidentally. Toting your clu-- drinks to the register, you pay for your purchase before turning your attention to what you can only assume was the ‘place to eat’ that Sollux had mentioned in the form of a smaller, swinging glass door tucked away in the corner.  Taped to the window is a worse-for-wear piece of laminated paper, plastic curling at the edges as though trying to shrivel up in disgust at prospect of being forever plastered to this sorry-excuse for door.  Hell, when you push it open, it sounds like something from one of Aradia’s horror flicks.

 

It’s still only early morning, but your brain is already trying to crawl out your eyes.  Fuck your life.

 

The door screeches as you begin to take in the room.  It’s...honestly that. “The Katty Korner”   is just a square room with off-white walls that are bordering brown with a handful of shitty, metal card tables paired with even shitter chairs.  Not even the plastic sort that you had in your backyard as a kid. Oh no.  These were the kind that are the spitting and hellish image of public school bus seats; the seats try to be comfortable with stuffing, but said stuffing is a thin sheet of craft foam inside plastic harder than Egbert’s beaver teeth and probably just as horrendously and nauseatingly huge.  (His fangs are nothing to sneeze at.)

 

Add in the black and white diner tile that you're sure Ampora would cream himself over and all the weird as shit knickknacks (Singing Fish? Seriously?), and you get the idea that the only person who could own such a place is either color-blind, a complete idiot, or just really old.

 

The room is generally empty aside from an older woman at the register behind the counter, greying at the temple with cokebottle glasses.  She lowers the paper in her grasp to peer at you with a raised brow before giving a small smile.  “Sit anywhere you want, hun.”

You give a nod and give a murmur of thanks before taking a seat at the table in the far back corner, a few paces from the kitchen door.  You also make sure to take one of the chairs _without_  plastic ready to shank your ass. Setting the bag of drinks upright in the shoulder height windowsill beside you, the woman titters over to the table with another laminated sheet of paper.

 

“Good morning, sweetie.  What can I get you to drink? We got hot chocolate, if that suits your fancy.”  She offers, handing you the menu.

 

You are honestly at the point of welcoming the sugar-dusted words, “That sounds pretty good actually. Thank you,” ...And even sweeter drink.  

 

The woman gives another smile, a sort of motherly feel to it.  “Sure thing.  Give me a hollar if you need anything. I’m Dolly.”  

 

Dolly (which at her age, you wouldn’t be surprised if that was her real name) returns to her post behind the counter, leaving you to look over the paper which you _are_  surprised to see is in better condition than the welcome sign. You make note of the usual sections of breakfast, lunch, and dinner with the usual country cooking before opting to get the largest damn breakfast you can order because fucking hell, you deserve it!  Pancakes, eggs, hash browns, sausage, and bacon with a heaping side of gravy.  Just thinking about it makes your mouth water.

 

Sollux, however, has never been the biggest of eaters.  You actually can recall Kanaya once commenting that he ate like a bird. (To which Aradia later changed to a bee. It didn’t help with the endless cycle of bee themed gifts that he cursed to hell and back.)  So, instead of ordering him the same, you decide that a stack of french toast would be settle things.

 

You turn over the menu and push it to the end of the table with a sigh only to follow up with a yawn.  Curling your arms together loosely on the chilly table top, you drop your head down onto them.  Jesus, you don’t want to think about what is going to happen if either of you can’t get the car fixed, or even worse; someone is going to have to shell out a wad of cash to get the rust bucket back on the road. More than likely, that person would have to be Mr. Captor.  Just the thought of having to ask him feels like adding insult to injury.

 

Gee, you can only imagine how that conversation might go.

‘Hello, Mr. Captor.  This is Karkat Vantas, the man who is still dating your son despite the fact that the last time we met, I almost burned down your house while trying to seduce said son.  I would like to inform you that due to being an utter piss baby, we will not be flying to see you after my father because we took your son’s car which has broken down in the middle on the boonies.  I cannot pay for the repairs as I spent what money I had to spare on a gift to impress you this Christmas. Sollux cannot pay for the repairs either as if he does, there will not be enough money for gas which we both had to chip in for.’

 

That might not be exactly what you plan to tell him, but you’re pretty sure that’s what he would hear either way.  

 

You swear to god those USB cufflinks better be worth this stress or at least save most of your ass.

 

Eventually, you hear Dolly meander back over to the table.  Lifting your head and swiping a hand through your thick nest of hair, you yawn again.  The woman chuckles.

 

“I take it that you’re on the road for the holiday season?” She questions, setting down a mug of hot cocoa complete with a dollop of whip cream.  

 

You give a nod and a quiet thanks before wrapping both hands about the off-white mug, breathing in and practically basking in the warmth as though you are leech, just latching onto and sucking the life desperately and hungrily out of anything you can get your goddamn paws on.

 

After a moment’s hesitation, you finally manage to spout out an intelligible response.

 

“A friend and I are headed back home to see our family.”  It wasn’t really a lie, but you don’t want to chance any bigoted dribble under these circumstances.

 

Dolly gives a slow nod and a smile that sort of reminds you of Miss Maryam; gentle, warm, and even motherly.  Especially motherly. “I’m sure your folks must be pretty excited.  I know when my boys left the nest, they were so wrapped up in the wonders of the world, I was lucky to get a phone call.” She gives another soft laugh before taking your order, and when she leaves you manage to give her a proper smile or so you hope.

 

Kanaya always tells you that you end up giving more of a scowl when you try to force a smile.

 

Lifting the mug, you gingerly sip at the hot drink.  Holy shit, it tastes better than YooHoo. Be jealous, Zahhak!  You only stop drinking once the burn starts to be bothersome.  Cradling the mug in a loose grasp, you let your eyes drift close while biting back yet another yawn.  You sort of lose track of the time, just enjoying the quiet around you and the warmth inside when the abominable screeching of the door grates at your ears.

After a few moments, you crack open your eyes with Sollux flopped in the chair across the table. His face is utterly red against his pasty skin, lips cracked to the point where you’re sure they’ve got to be hurting.  The stains from before are still there, though for all you know there could be a few more.  With a small frown, you slide the lone mug across the table to him.

 

“So...what’s the damage?”

 

He snatches the drink with both hands and takes a large gulp before sighing.  “I got thome guy from the gath thation to give me a hand.”  Sollux turns the mug about in his hands a few times as he continues talking.  

 

“Tho he jumped the battery, I paid him a couple buckth, and we’re good to go.” Your boyfriend then guzzles down the last of the hot chocolate before sliding back the mug.  

 

Ignoring it, your frown only grows. “How much did it cost?”

 

Even with the glasses in the way, you know he’s rolling his eyes.  “Doeth it even matter? We’ll be able to vithit and get back in one piece with both of our kidneyth.”  He then cracks a small grin.

 

“Don’t get your pantieth in a twitht, KK.”  

 

You frown again, letting your head flop forward into both your hands. Whatever or whoever you impressed to allow you to keep this amazing man in your life is a saint after all of the unholy shit you have put him through.

 

“Hey Sollux…” It comes out without thinking.  It always does out of some stupid and pathetic instinctual worry.

 

“Yeah, Karkat. We’re still friends.”

 

But there a time like this, where you honestly think he must be a saint himself.  You lift your head, letting your arm fall back on the table with you hand beside his own.  Sollux settles his twiggy hand on top of your own and god, it feels like you’re 16 again, getting so sappy over something so fucking simple.

 

And honestly, despite everything leading up to this moment, it couldn’t feel more right.


End file.
